


The Snacks are Bitchin', but What's Up with the Drool?

by corvidae9, knitmeapony



Series: Cross-Country [5]
Category: Scooby-Doo, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/knitmeapony/pseuds/knitmeapony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean find more kindred spirits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snacks are Bitchin', but What's Up with the Drool?

**Author's Note:**

> This one written by Corvidae9, posted here for continuity

Sam was watching Dean with equal parts disgust and admiration as his brother lay sprawled on the ground, hands pillowed under his head, grinning stupidly up at the stars above.

"Those were... friggin' amazing," said Dean; not slurring, but speaking with a lethargia that spoke of herbally induced stupor.

The huge brown Great Dane sprawled out beside Dean chuffed in seeming amusement. Sam wondered if he'd eaten some of the dubious snacks they'd been offered and just forgotten, because it damn well sounded as though the big dog was laughing with a "Rheeheehee," sort of sound.

"Like, best there is, man," said the guy whose hair surpassed Sam's shaggiest puppy hair so easily and so well, he'd been nicknamed after it.

"Sammy," said Dean, tucking his chin to his chest in order to better see his brother. "Sam. You gotta try these man."

"Rup! Riggin' relishus!" the dog... said? Growled? What the hell was it that dog was doing?

"'Sright, boy," said Dean holding out a hand for a low five that the dog immediately paid up on. "Friggin' delicious."

Sam continued to stare wordlessly as Dean tilted his head in an exact mirror of the dog's position and added, "...What? Dude. He makes a lot more sense than we thought he did."

"Come on. Scooby's like, a poet," said Shaggy, popping another of the insidious little snacks and grinning. "Or like, a prophet. Yeah. Live easy, eat a lot, run away from scary shit. Yeah." 

Dean returned his squinty gaze heavenward. "Oh man. That's deep."

"Give me that," said the girl in the orange knee socks as she walked by and snatched the box of so-called Scooby Snacks out of Shaggy's hands without pause. Shaggy made some sort of whining protest, but he neither fought back nor followed. Velma perched on the log next to Sam and shot him a sideways glare through her hipster frames.

"I swear. As if they weren't dim enough as it is."

Sam shut his eyes and snorted a disbelieving laugh. "My brother. Is getting high with a dog and a hippy." He turned to meet Velma's gaze. "And you know what? That's still not the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

"Tell me about it," Velma grinned and looked into the box with a sigh. "Some days I'm tempted, I'll tell you."

"Traveling with these two and those two?" Sam said, cocking his head toward the tent that everyone wished was soundproof. "Surprised you're not as high as they are."

"Bah," said Velma with a shrug, finally deciding to reseal the box. "You get used to it. They're like family, you know?"

Sam grimaced. "Oh yeah. I hear you." Dean and Scooby started a chorus of Jumping Jack Flash, Shaggy fell to his knees playing air guitar, and Sam couldn't help but laugh again. "And that's just funny."

"Idiots," Velma sighed fondly in their direction. She planted the box in the sparse grass next to her feet and watched the stoners collapse into a fit of giggles for a while before she spoke again.

"So. You guys think this "Phantom of Boise" isn't just a guy in a suit trying to make a land grab or something?"

"Wish it was," said Sam. "But from what we've figured out so far..."

He didn't need to finish that thought. Velma pursed her lips and turned to face Sam again.

"Crap. I hate when they're actual dead things." She shivered and kicked a rock near her mary janes (Doc Martens, Sam noticed, thus inherently meaner than they seemed at first). "People are easier to have arrested."

Sam was tempted to point out that at least with spirits you didn't have to worry about the legal system and whether the perps had enough money to beat the wrap. He didn't. It seemed like out loud, such a thing would be traitorous to all he wanted to be and do by going to college. Instead he huffed another laugh and watched Dean laugh his own ass off at Shaggy and Scooby waltzing by.

"...Is it me?" asked Sam, supremely confused. "Or is that dog a pretty decent dancer?"

"It's not you," Velma smirked, then lowered her voice even further to say, "I have a six pack of Sam Adams stashed in a box marked 'granola'. You down?"

"I--" Sam was interrupted by Dean's blowing obnoxious kissyfaces in his direction, and paused only to salute him with one finger.

"--Please?"


End file.
